Loyalty
by Oddric
Summary: He'd given everything. His lands. His titles. His wealth and status. Five years of his life. Everything - But Destiny demanded more, demanded sacrifice. Eminor of Hemlock would remain loyal to Cyrodiil, Destiny would see to that.


**Loyalty**

The painful silence of the Imperial Prison threatened to overthrow Eminor's sanity as he waited for something – anything, to happen. Only a single noise penetrated the cells, a single drop of water that continuously fell against a small puddle. Eminor knelt in his cell, disregarding the small wooden chair that sat next to him, his hands clasped to his chest – reminiscent of prayer. It had served to discourage the guards from any further visits to Eminor's cell overnight, the initial beating had been enough so far and Eminor had avoided beginning any disputes.

He knew how the prison system worked.

Maybe not Cyrodiil prison systems, but Eminor felt that he had managed to gain a significant understanding within Morrowind region, and even a greater understanding of politics, and how fickle such matters were.

"Oh, look, an Imperial in the Imperial Prison. I guess they don't play favourites, huh? Your own kinsmen think you're a piece of human trash. How sad." The voice was harsh and callous, raspy – undoubtedly due to the nature of the accent and homeland, Eminor recognised such an accent. Having become overly familiar with it. Eminor opened his eyes to observe the Dunmer in the cell across from him; Eminor had heard him goad several other prisoners during the last few days. The Dunmer sneered at him through the ironclad cell-doors.

"I bet the guards give you "special" treatment before the end. Oh, that's right." Eminor kept his gaze steady, which appeared to unsettle the Dunmer, if only a little. Eminor's impartial gaze managed to receive an emotional reaction, at the very least. "You're going to die in here, Imperial! You're going to die! Imperial criminal scum like you give the Empire a bad name, you see. You're an embarrassment. Best if you just... disappeared."

That thought did frighten Eminor, the Imperial wasn't certain of what he had done. Certainly, members of the Imperial Legion don't simply go missing without notice. Someone would notice his absence, of course… But whether they noticed that Eminor was gone or not, would they ever be allowed to find him? "You hear that," The Ashlander cackled again, "The guards are coming. For you!"

The thought troubled him, Eminor briefly allowed his thoughts to consume him. Remembering home, in High Rock… He wondered if… No, surely not. Eminor ceased thinking immediately – voices, the guards? Surely not, it was far too early for the prison guards to be moving throughout the cells. Then who?

"- Don't know that sire," The voice sounded light and lilted, female with a Cyrodiil accent with a lighter… Breton perhaps? "The message said they were only attacked!"

Eminor frowned, creeping closer to the cell doors in order to hear. The next words struck him cold, "No, they're dead. I know it." Male, elderly… and high up in the nobility caste if Eminor heard correctly.

There was a brief pause, before the woman spoke again. "My job, right now is to get you to safety."

That appeared to be enough for the time being, and Eminor scurried away from the ironclad doors and back into the cell as he heard the footsteps approach. Eminor dashed to the side, placing his body against the small alcove that the odd walling of the cell provided. Hiding, apparently, turned out to be fruitless. "What! What's this prisoner doing here?" The Breton woman spoke again, and not pleased this time. Harsh and gravelled tones. "This cell is supposed to be off-limits!"

"Uh…" One sounded, also male. Sounding somewhat nicer, although Eminor knew better than to trust a man over his voice of all things. "Usual mix up with the Watch… I…"

"Forget it. Get that gate open. Stand back prisoner!" The female again, her voice crisp and firm – tight and controlled. She was, undoubtedly not pleased with his presence and it was beginning to show in her interaction with her subordinates, Eminor began to pry himself away from the wall – only to move back against another one. "We won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way."

Eminor did as ordered, back against the wall, casting his eyes down. The armed guards moved into the cell, and Eminor eyed their armour cautiously. He'd seen some of the design, but surely not… what were Blades doing in an Imperial Prison? They'd spoken of deaths, Eminor knew, someone important…

"You…" The old man said, "I've seen you…"

Eminor lifted his eyes, and immediately flung himself to his knees, hand held tight over his breast – his heart, to be more accurate. "My Emperor." Eminor didn't dare lift his head, not even moving the slightest amount.

Emperor Uriel Septim however, appeared to be annoyed somewhat. "Let me see your face." The Emperor ordered sternly and Eminor lifted it immediately, his face blushing slightly. "You are the one from my dreams... Then the stars were right, and this is the day. Gods give me strength."

"Sire, I…" Eminor attempted to say, what could he say? "I served under your son sire, Prince Geldell, in the Morrowind providence…" One of the bodyguards scoffed and sneered at Eminor, no doubt believing that the 'prisoner' was telling whatever lies he could in order to escape, and Eminor glared in response, but it was without heart – his real concern was the Emperor. It appeared that whatever words Eminor spoke, the Emperor ignored however.

He appeared trapped, locked in his own little world.

"You are the one from my dreams... Then the stars were right, and this is the day. Gods give me strength." Emperor Septim said, clasping his hands before him. Eminor kept kneeling, showing proper respect to his Lord.

"Milord, what's happening?" Eminor asked, "Why are you here, sire?" And why was Eminor here? A good enough question, for the Imperial had no knowledge of the events that preceded his arrival in Cyrodiil. The Emperor turned his head over to Eminor, his face appearing grave, sad and… so, so old.

"Assassins attacked my sons, and I'm next." The Emperor said sorrowfully, clasping his hands and looking all the stronger for his grieving. "My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell."

Eminor sighed, "Why am I in jail, sire?"

The Emperor cheered slightly, but it was a bittersweet expression, a small laugh emerged from his chest. "Perhaps the Gods placed you here so that we might meet." The Emperor intoned lightly, jovial for a moment or two before sobering. "As for what you have done… it does not matter. That is not what you shall be remembered for. Take heed, I am your emperor, Uriel Septim. By the grace of the Gods, I serve Tamriel as her ruler. You are a citizen of Tamriel, and you, too, shall serve her in your own way."

Eminor bowed his head even deeper, "What should I do, sire?" Eminor asked seriously, immediately upon being thrown into the prison Eminor had lost his title, his lands, his wealth and his positions. He wasn't entirely sure of what he could do to serve his Lord.

"You shall go your own way," The Emperor said seriously, "But for now, you must come with us. Take care… there will be blood and death before the end."

And with that, the conversation was over. Eminor rose to his feet, rubbing the slight amount of dark hair that had grown upon his cheeks during the last few weeks of imprisonment, his eyes widened as a hidden lever gave way – and the entire wall shifted in place. By the Nine, Eminor had known that there was something odd about the design of the cell, but… Blimey.

One of the Blades shoved a torch into his hand, and moved on, scoffing slightly – another smiled slightly, but was tense. Very tense.

They moved in silence, a torch held in Eminor's hand flickering as they crossed the winding pathways and stairs, the white marble around him seemed matched to the architecture that lay above the ground in the Imperial City, but statuettes sat decoratively upon almost every corner – sending shadows of monsters dancing across the walls as Eminor passed, his torch throwing figures about the room – a maze of columns and darkness, one that Eminor didn't fancy – such a place seemed too open and... Slowly, they moved into a room through a staircase, they were heading downwards, Eminor realised. There was a scrape of steel against wood, Eminor backed up a step as one of the Blades – Glenroy snarled, and bared his katana furiously.

"Assassins!" Glenroy shouted accusingly, red-armoured figures leapt from an alcove above. Eminor stumbled back, waving his torch furiously in defence of himself. An assassin laughed behind his mask, the dagger in his hand glinting beneath the lights of the labyrinth and darted forward, Eminor swung the torch in defence of himself, the threat of heat and fire managing to be successful enough to make the assassin reconsider, but not for long.

Eminor kept retreating backwards, swinging his torch in aid to ward the aggressors off. He stopped cold as he hit the wall, Eminor dropped as the knife dipped towards him, managing to avoid the blow by an inch. Eminor swung the torch with both hands, catching the assassin about the midsection, the oily cloth beneath his armour lighting up.

The assassin panicked, batting at the flames that spread beneath his armour – the scent of roasting flesh spreading across the room fast.

It was a mercy, when the katana ended his life – Captain Renault stood triumphant, the blade already sheathing to her side as she stood over her opponent. The Captain looked at Eminor for a moment before nodding approvingly, before turning her back and attending to the Emperor. Glenroy treated him with a similar disposition.

"You handled yourself well back there, just stay out of the way, and let us do our job." Glenroy said grudgingly, also moving back to his master's side.

Eminor caught his breath, his heart still racing. It had been some time since he'd experienced that quality of combat, close and personal…

They moved onwards, of course, Eminor in the middle with Baurus taking the rear and Glenroy the front – Captain Renault stood close to the Emperor at all times, a steady hand kept upon one of two weapons at her belt. Eminor had barely managed to keep an eye upon her, as she fought, but it appeared that she duelled with both the silver short sword and the katana at her side.

An impressive feat, Eminor had only seen the Ashlanders of Morrowind fight in such a style, or the pirates of Hammerfell. Respect for the woman grew, but Eminor kept silent and merely held his torch an inch higher.

Slowly, the moved forward through an open door and turned about a number of corners – ending before a small stairwell, Eminor didn't trust the substructure, there were too many locations that proved to be perfect for an ambush, Glenroy led the way with his blade held high – apparently he shared Eminor's distrust.

Glenroy went down with a shout, an assassin stabbing him in the gaps of his armour, into the side. The assassin turned his featureless mask upwards, spinning the dagger in his hand before moving up the stairs, another three joining him as he approached. Eminor stepped backwards as Baurus rushed forward, the Emperor moved back by Eminor's side and drew his own short blade.

The battle commenced immediately, Baurus standing the way – defending the paths to the Emperor whist Renault defended the fallen Glenroy, swinging her two blades at the two opponents whom slowly surrounded her.

They moved like wolves, each time that Renault would lash out, they would dart in upon the opening. Forcing Renault to defend herself, and abandon her attack. Glenroy stirred at her feet, his katana lying metres away – trodden upon in the dust. He couldn't make the distance; Renault backpedalled furiously as another assassin joined the fight, the dagger gleaming and impacting upon her breastplate. Leaving a deep mark into the metal, Renault swung in, her katana flashing forwards into the assassin's throat. Blood falling upon the marble floors as the new corpses armour disappeared in red smoke.

But the enemy seized upon opportunity, the assassin's dagger carving along Renault's arm as it retreated back – The Captain shouted in pain, blood seeping from the wound immediately. The katana dropping to the floor, leaving Renault armed only with the short sword at her left.

At Renault feet, Glenroy seethed, snatching his dagger from his belt and planting it deep into the assassin's thigh. The Captain took advantage of it, her short sword swinging in – but lacking the proper reach – Renault overextended, killing the assassin but another darted in – her dagger going through the metal armour and into Renault's stomach.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Renault gasped, breathing heavily and sunk in her weight against the assassin, before backpedalling quickly – a second blow landed – slashing the Captain's throat, red blood spurted down across her chest. The Breton sank against the wall, and dropped to the floor – Renault silently.

"BASTARD!" Glenroy screamed in a red-hot rage, Renault's katana in his hand as he landed a blow – dropping the female assassin to her knee, Glenroy's next attack was knocked aside – the katana somehow taken from his grip. It was replaced by Glenroy's elbow, as it slammed into the metal mask, followed by his fingers as they crept about her throat and Glenroy pushed the dagger-hand down, slamming it against the marble – again and again – refusing to stop until the assassin let go.

She stilled beneath Glenroy, and the wounded man slowly fell off the body as the armour disappeared. Baurus rushed to his comrade's side, checking his wound only to be pushed away. "Are you alright, sire? We're clear for now." Baurus called as he moved to Renault's side.

"Captain Renault?" The Emperor asked as he descended the stairs, Eminor at his back, Baurus looked up remorsefully from the Captain's body.

"She's dead, I'm sorry sire. But we have to keep moving." Baurus said sorrowfully, but there was a timbre of strength within his voice now. Eminor realised that Baurus must've been second in command, or something along the lines, but had he led before? That question troubled Eminor slightly, even as he moved to follow the Emperor.

A raised hand stopped him; the Emperor had stopped him cold with a simple gesture. Both Baurus and Glenroy, who had staggered to his feet, watched him with suspicion. Apparently the loss of the Captain had put them at ill-ease, and more than a little paranoid perhaps?

"Here you must find your own path." The Emperor spoke, not unkindly. "But we shall cross paths by the end, I am sure of it."

And with that, the Emperor turned his back and walked away, followed by Glenroy – leaving Eminor alone in the dark.

He stayed there for several minutes before moving, slowly turning towards Captain Renault's cooling body and averting his eyes shamefully, before kneeling and taking the short sword from her hand and her katana from where it had fallen from Glenroy's grip. Eminor didn't dare to strip the assassin's of their garb, lest he be recognised as an enemy of the Empire, instead he rifled through their pockets and retrieved what he could, potions and a few coins.

So, instead Eminor simply remained garbed in his simple prison clothes – tucking the sheaths of both blades into his loose-corded belt and drawing the longer katana, the naked blade sliding from it's sheath, the tang of the blade having been carefully taken care of… Eminor took in a deep breath.

Turned instep, and swung – releasing the air in his lungs simultaneous to the swing – the blade cutting deep into the midsection of the rat, Eminor withdrew the blade from the rat's flesh swiftly and cleanly. Blood spraying upon the back wall as Eminor flicked the remnants of the rat from the blade, the steel flashed as another rat descended upon him. Sparking beneath the rat's stomach, cutting cleanly through the softer area of the animal. It fell besides it's fellow rat – just as dead.

Eminor allowed a breath to escape him as he sheathed the blade, it had been some time since he had fought with a blade – swordplay had never been his favoured part of combat.

Eminor stepped through a crevice in the wall; it proved to be difficult – whilst rats might traverse such a small space, for men it proved more difficult. But Eminor managed to squeeze himself through. But he soon managed it, sneaking through – and spotting a skeleton. Eminor paused; it lay in a field of light – no doubt from some disused well or something of the kind. But what lay beside it was what interested Eminor the most, a bow. A small grin spread across his face, oh that he did like. At the speed that Eminor crossed the room, even he wasn't certain that he wasn't running – but he picked up the rusty iron bow with fervour, inspecting it and deeming it suitable for use – after a few slight adjustments.

It took only a few moments for Eminor to restring the bow, tightening it and pulling the wood in. Eminor slowly lifted it up, and drew an arrow from a loose quiver he'd found close-by, he breathed in, resting the arrow against his cheek and aiming for a bucket that overhung a well. He breathed out, and released.

The arrow flew hard and fast, whistling through the air and snapping through the rope – dropping the bucket to the bottom of the well with a splash.

Eminor delighted in the action, it had been so long – so long! – since he'd been able to hold a bow, an arrow…. He sighed, content.

Eminor was complete again.

I might be a little late for the Oblivion fanfiction, but oh well, here we go anyway. I've noticed that Eminor might seem a little stale this first chapter, which is unfortunate – because he hasn't had much to do. I'll be establishing his character soon.

Anyway, in the mean time I would appreciate a few reviews, constructive criticisms if you don't mind.

And Eminor does hail from High Rock despite being an Imperial – I'll reveal the exact nature of Eminor's status within High Rock soon however.

Later,

Oddric.


End file.
